Metellus.—I always predict that women will be the ruin of young Cæsar. They will be his misfortune. He is losing his hair rapidly, and as for a beard, he will never be able to grow one. Ha, ha, fancy it! Cæsar is a prætor, you know that.
Catullus.—Yes, and
Metellus.—And a prætor must hold at his house ‘the feast to the Goddess of Chastity.’ It takes place at night, and no man must be present. Now, you know that the brother of my wife is crazily in love with Pompeia, the wife of Cæsar.
Catullus.—I know that.
Metellus.—Pompeia was the priestess at this feast—ha—ha—and Clodius, dressed woman’s garb, went there—ha—as a harp player—ha!
Catullus.—The rascal. And they found him out?
Metellus. Of course. You know Aurelia, Cæsar’s mother. She has sharper eyes than Argus. She screamed and howled, and the next day all Rome was full of the scandal. One of the tribunes of the plebs had to sue Clodius for blasphemy of the gods.
Catullus.—A pretty little tale—but why Cæsar? What had he to do with this?
Metellus.—Did it not happen in Cæsar’s house? Was not Clodius there after Cæsar’s wife? And then Clodius said that Cæsar egged him on. He wanted to find out what the women folk did at the ‘Feast of Chastity.’
Catullus.—But did not Cæsar testify in favor of Clodius? Did he not defend the honor of his House and prove the alibi of Clodius?
Metellus.—Cæsar did—yes—but not Cicero.
Catullus.—But what cares Cicero for the wife of Cæsar and the pranks of Clodius.
Metellus.—Oh! simple poet! (Laughs.) Back of all was Terentia, the wife of Cicero.
Catullus.—What has she to do with it?
Metellus.—Baby! (Drinks.) You know that the evil tongues said that Cicero is after the sister of Clodius, my wife, Clodia.
